


Historical Reenactment

by darkrogue1 (Lily_Haydee_Lohdisse)



Category: Blake et Mortimer | Blake and Mortimer
Genre: Blake has weird fantasies, Historical References, I have other things to write - dammit, M/M, Non-Con Roleplay, References to Edward II of England - Isabella of France - Roger Mortimer, Roleplay, Why Did I Write This?, medieval feats of arms are not only glorious deeds, this is not even reenactment this is porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 04:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12161655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Haydee_Lohdisse/pseuds/darkrogue1
Summary: As you might have known, Blake has always been fascinated by medieval feats of arms. This time, he takes his reenactments to bed.Beta-read and edited by Blackpenny





	Historical Reenactment

"What has gotten into you?" Mortimer cannot hold his tongue any longer, the suspense of those last few days has become unbearable. He is currently in bed with his lover, and captain Francis Blake’s twinkling eyes and unusual fervour have intrigued him too much for him to keep silent. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you," he adds, gently stroking his lover's face, "but I've rarely seen you this enthusiast for so long."

  
  


The captain blushes slightly but he ackowledges the truth and Mortimer's perspicacity. "You are right, it’s just - " For a moment Blake searches for the right words, trying to explain his ardour of the last few days. "… you know how fascinated I am with history, particularly medieval history."

  
Mortimer does indeed, and remembers what Blake told him of his youthful historical reconstructions games, but though he guesses that his friend might like to add some role playing in their intimacy – and this was probably what he was imagining those last few times – he really doesn't see what Blake could be thinking about, or what might have set this off. "Something in particular?"

  
  


Blake blushes again. Mortimer’s is delighted to see him so lively as he explains. "Garrison might have made a passing remark, last week – we had a mark called Isabella – and he asked if I might know of a Mortimer to keep an eye – or more – on her."

  
  


Now Mortimer at least has the period down. He doesn't need to ask for specifics: of course he remembered the knight who shared his last name. "And you imagined yourself as queen Isabella ?"

  
  


Blake swallows, clearly affected. "Not quite, no."

  
  


Mortimer doesn't need to think very far before meeting Blake's eyes and knowing that he’s hit upon the answer. "Oh."

  
  


Suddenly he shifts, moving to action. "Very well, sire,” he starts, pressing a hand on his lover’s bare chest to push him tight down on the bed. "You are now my prisoner."

  
  


A fleeting expression of delight passes on Blake's face before he gets into character and protests. "I am your rightful king !"

  
  


"I heard your wife is actually having doubts about your capacity on that part," Mortimer counters. "That's not the only thing she is complaining about actually. " Trailing his other hand down Blake's side to his crotch, he adds, "maybe I should just show you. Can you guess what I'm talking about?"

  
  


"Rogering?" Blake deadpans.

  
  


And Mortimer loses it, completely breaking character as he dissolves into laughter. The joke* has him in stitches for minutes before he can get some serious again. Raising his head to meet his lover's eyes, he is met with frank amusement.

 

"Sorry, my dear," Mortimer apologises, still smiling,"I don't know how you can say that with such a straight face, but I certainly wasn't expecting it."

  
  


It's Blake's turn to chuckle. "Well, I kind of spoke before I had time to think about it. You were saying, old chap?"

  
  


Slowly getting back into character, they warm back up with some mutual caresses before they get back to their game. "Right, … though I suppose that this is nothing new for you." Mortimer goes on when he feels sufficiently serious again, trailing his fingers down until he can press gently against his lover's anus.

  
  


What was meant to be a cry of outrage from the other man is more like a moan of pleasure.

  
  


On and off they banter while Mortimer prepares his lover – he would never skip the use of lubricant of some kind, however much Blake begs – and finally gets to buggering him.

  
  


His lover is wild as ever under him and clearly enjoying himself tremendously when after a while he tries to speak up.

  
  


"Your rod..." he starts, but he cannot go any further as he comes undone completely in a mind shattering orgasm,.

  
  


Mortimer, relishing his lover's abandon joins him soon enough in his ecstasy before collapsing to rest gently by his side. When Blake opens his eyes again, Mortimer asks: "What did you want to say just now ?"

  
  


Blake lets out a low moan as he remembers the feeling and speaks again in a whisper. "Your rod burns through me hotter than a red-hot poker might," he pauses and swallows, nearly overcome before letting out in a last breath "and I feel like I'll die all the same."

  
  


His heart full, Mortimer moves to tightly hug his friend. Blake has a weird sense of poetry, but he loves him all the same. "So that's what it was all about," he whispers as he settles back down against the warm body. How he loves it when Blake lets him see what is going on inside his head.

  
  


  
  


  
  


* They are talking about one Roger Mortimer.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I blame it on the documentary I just watched on Netflix (She-wolves), since the first occurrence of Mortimer's name took me by surprise – I had totally forgotten about that name in English history. But maybe the blame lays much earlier when I first read the whole set of novels 'The Accursed Kings' at age nine or ten as it left a profound impression on me. Of the 7 volumes and 1632 pages, I only remember the red leather and ornate gold lettering of the binding, my incredulity at the opening adulterous affairs and three scenes. The first of those scenes is the Templar Grand Master Jacques de Molay cursing his accusers to the 13th generation at his execution, but that scene has mostly faded for my mind to leave only a sense of mystical powers and magic. The second is about two prisonners (and now I have no idea who they were or even if it was in those books at all), one gone lazy about his appearance to keep a relative comfort, and the other still shaving meticulously with icy cold water and rage in his heart. The third scene I never managed to forget, and to this day I still can remember sitting on my bed horrified and my heart pounding after reading Maurice Druon's account of Edward II's demise, and that chapter ending on the dreadful yell of a man tortured to death.
> 
> To think of it maybe this could be considered sexual healing for me.


End file.
